Chapter Text
“Oh shoot!” Ladybug shrieks as light envelops the entirety of Chat Noir’s form, so bright that she has to blink away the black spots in her vision after being momentarily blindsided.
“Chat Noir!? Chaton!” She looks around, rubbing her eyes, gaping as her gaze falls on the little kid standing where Chat Noir had just been moments before.
“Oh no! Oh no no no no no!” She panics, kneeling on the rooftop, reaching out for the kid who was clearly Chat Noir, but much smaller and cuter.
As soon as she lays hands on his little shoulders, little Chat Noir, who had been standing still, staring at his surroundings dazedly, comes alive by hissing and snapping his teeth at her fingers, almost nipping her in the process.
“Wha- Chat Noir!” She yells, drawing her hands away, and glaring down at him. Her ire instantly disappears as she looks at him closer, taking in his rosy little cheeks, soft tufts of golden hair, and tiny, twitching ears. His cat-like green eyes are so wide they cover almost a quarter of his small pointy face. “Chaton,” she says softly, watching the kid’s lips quiver, his eyes welling up with tears. “Do you… remember anything?”
Dammit, the potion was supposed to make him grow large, not turn him into a Chaton Noir.
He shakes his little head, backing away from her. It breaks her heart a bit, to see him look so confused and frightened. “I-It’s okay, kitty. I’ll fix this, don’t worry,” she tries to say soothingly. She has no idea how to fix this, this was a disaster and all she wanted to do was break down, because how could she be so stupid to let Chat Noir drink the potion? Why couldn’t she have experimented on a pine cone or something, clearly her brain was addled to give her partner a shiny unknown brew and think everything was going to be okay.
Now she either had to bring the spellbook or the miraculous box here to confer with the kwamis to see how to undo the effects of the potion, or bring the miniature Chat Noir into her house.
Ladybug sighs, flicking her yo-yo open and scrolling through her communicator’s contact list.
A loud thud draws her attention away from Alya’s texts. She gasps when she finds the rooftop empty, with no little Chat Noir in sight. She rushes to the edge of the rooftop, and her eyes bulge as she watches the kid slide down the metal pipe, casually leaping down a three-story building.
“Chat!” She cries out, lassoing her yo-yo and swinging down, grabbing the kid’s waist before dropping onto the ground carefully.
“Mmmph!” The suited boy in her arms struggles weakly against the death grip she has on him. Her heart was still racing, her brain conjuring up all grisly images of kid Chat Noir splattered on the floor. Thank goodness he was suited up. “L-l-let go of me!!”
“Don’t do that,” she growls at him, placing him down on the ground. “You could have gotten seriously hurt, Chat Noir!”
He glares up at her, his lips pressed tightly, clearly trying not to let the tears in his eyes spill down his cheeks. “Wh-why do y-you keep calling me that?”
“Call you what?” She asks, brows knitting in confusion.
“Cha-Chat Noir.”
Ladybug gasps, lifting a hand to her mouth. “Do you really not remember anything? What- what is the last thing you remember?” She demands, before realizing that was a horrible, potentially identity-revealing question, and she quickly backpedals, ignoring the frantic chiming of her communicator. “No, don’t answer that… uh, how old are you?”
“Nine,” Chaton Noir answers reluctantly, his eyes darting to her before they flicker away. “I’m not su-supposed to t-talk with str-strangers. Wh- where’s my Mère and Pè-Père? And- and why do I- why am I wearing this?” He asks quietly, staring down at his sharp claws, and flicking at his bell curiously, ears twitching as it chimes. Ladybug feels her heart melt at the sight of how tiny the golden bell was against Chaton Noir’s neck.
“Um,” she frantically wonders how to answer his completely reasonable and valid questions. But she can’t help but focus on how strange Mère and Père sounded on the little boy’s lips, so unlike the casual disregard and informal way Chat Noir usually spoke. “They’re… out on vacation? And- and I was asked to babysit you!” She latches on to the first thing that comes to her mind.
She holds her breath as she watches Chaton Noir cutely wrinkle his little nose, appearing extremely dubious about this explanation. “Th-then where’s Nath-”
“Stop!” She yells out, grimacing when the kid stares up at her in fright, hugging his hands to his chest, withdrawing away from her slightly. “I- I mean- ugh! We’re on a secret mission? And we- we’re not supposed to reveal anything about ourselves!”
Chat Noir was kind of a nerd, right? She could totally imagine him as the type of kid who loved playing make-believe.
“Oh,” Chaton Noir frowns, now playing with his shrunken tail. “I- Is that why we- we’re in costume? Are you dressed as a wa-watermelon?” He asks, staring at her seriously.
She bites against her lip, trying not to laugh. Chris always got upset whenever she giggled at anything because, in his words, he was not a little baby, and only babies got laughed at.
“... No. I’m a Ladybug.”
For the first time since this whole mess, she sees Chaton Noir’s eyes light up, a small smile suddenly playing on his lips.
“Do you like ladybugs?” She can’t help but smile back. He was soo cute. She wants to hold him again and squish his adorable little cheeks.
“Yes,” he tells her shyly and she resists the urge to squeal. “There’s ladybugs in Mère’s garden. They like plants like daisies, fennel, and cilantro. And when they feel really cold they like to hi-hiver-hibernate in leaf litter, or under tree bark, or in other crevices to stay warm.”
“Wow,” her eyes grow wide as he keeps talking, watching him bounce on the balls of his toes. “I didn’t know you knew so much about ladybugs.”
He peeks up at her from underneath his fringes as she draws closer. “I like learning ‘bout- sorry, about them. Miss…?”
She hums lightly as she walks closer. “Yes? You can call me Ladybug. Do you have any other questions?” she asks, carefully taking his small hand into hers. He was so polite, it shouldn't be so odd to see it, his older self could be unfailingly charming and polite when he wanted to, but it was still a bit strange to see a child being so formal. Even his posture, which had been hunched and full of suspicion and fear, had disappeared, and now he stands taller, his back stiffening straight.
He doesn’t answer her, watching her curiously, gaze traveling to their locked hands, and there’s something else about his expression, something unreadable. He shakes his head.
She knew Chat Noir could be sensitive, and was easily prone to anger, and the few times she entertained the idea of a younger Chat, she always imagined him as a loud, rambunctious kid, charming and mischievous. When she pictured his family, she conjured up two younger siblings, maybe both girls, like Alya’s family. She couldn’t say why, she just did, he had that sort of protective, older brother energy, and he was always empathetic to all of her moods, as if he was used to being around teenage girls with bad tempers. When she thought of his parents, she imagined them to be as sweet and doting as her own.
So, it almost felt like she was having whiplash, at how quickly this inaccurate, fantasy life she built up for Chat Noir was crumbling before her very eyes. Chaton Noir, in reality, was a wary, shy boy who apparently could recite random ladybug facts off the top of his head. In reality, he was a little boy who stared at her with unreadable eyes, unquestioning of the strange situation he found himself in, and walked with her hand in hand, as silent as a drifting spector.
She tries to shake off the uncomfortable feeling of realizing she didn’t know her partner as well as she thought she did, and instead tries to explain away the strangeness of the whole situation, because surely, Chaton Noir was going to have more questions regarding why he appeared on a rooftop, clothed in a black, leather suit complete with moving ears and a tail along with an equally unusual-dressed stranger?
“Umm, so your parents didn’t want to wake you… because you were in a pretty deep sleep. And- uh, they had to find a last-minute babysitter, um, that’s me! And now we’re playing a game, where we’re superheroes of Paris and we have to save the city from evil people trying to take our jewels.” She poked at his glowing ring, hiding a smile as his eyes grew endearingly wider and wider with every word. “This ring, and my earrings-” she points at her ears, “are very, very important, okay? You cannot remove your ring no matter what, because… because otherwise, the bad guy will win, okay?”
She waves her free arm wildly. “I mean you can totally take off the ring when you need to use the restroom or something, of course, but, uh, for now, just don’t take it off anywhere else, okay? Not even in front of me, got it?”
“Okay,” he whispers, bouncing slightly. She grins at that. Got you, she thinks. If this was Chris or Manon, they would be jumping up and down in excitement by now. Chris would probably whine about how she was lying and playing baby stories with him, trying to hide how thrilled he was to play being a superhero, but his eyes would be shining with anticipation. Manon at this point would be begging her to get her dressed in her ladybug costume so she could fight off the akumas with her lucky charm, which was almost always her purple wand. Though, they were a bit younger than nine… but nine-year-olds liked playing pretend, right? She’s pretty sure she did when she was younger.
“Now, I’m going to take you to a super, duper secret superhero hideout, okay? This is where we make our potions to gain power-ups to fight the villain.”
“Okay,” Chaton Noir says again, and she can’t help but laugh lightly at his confused expression. She boops his nose, laughing again at how his eyes go cross-eyed, just as it did when he was his older self. He squeezes her hand tightly, his other hand reaching out to touch his nose. There’s an expression that almost looks like wonder on his face as he gazes up at her again, so similar to the one Chat Noir always reserved for Ladybug. She feels her heart skip slightly at this, her chest feeling heavy and warm at seeing that shining adoration directed at her.
She lifts him up when they get closer to her house, and he freezes as she wraps her arms around him. “You okay?” She asks, concerned.
“Mmh,” he nods, then startling her as he presses his cold, little nose into her neck, throwing his arms around her shoulders.
“Oooph,” she pretends to struggle to hold him, shifting him higher up so she could carry him easier. “Such a clingy cat,” she teases, smile slipping when she feels him tense.
“Sorry,” he mutters, hiding his face. “O-only babies get ca-carried. ‘M sorry for being a b-burden.”
She gasps, holding him tighter and she leaps up onto her balcony, quickly shimmying down her skylight before anyone could see. She pulled him back slightly, so she could look at him properly.
“Who said that to you?” She demands angrily, her arms going rigid. “You are not a burden!”
Both of them startle when they hear a slight thud, sounding like a book falling. Ladybug looks to her chaise, only to see Alya gaping back at them.